


Sunrise

by canadianstuck



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Minor Violence, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 21:48:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8261476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canadianstuck/pseuds/canadianstuck
Summary: Percy and Vex are scouting during a night watch when things go horribly wrong. What will happen when the sun comes up?





	

It’s a quiet night. Even the crackle of the fire seems muted, and Grog is hardly snoring at all. Percy circles the edge of camp, half asleep on his feet. Not so much as an owl has moved in the last few hours. He stops and leans against a tree, feeling the rough bark press against his shoulders through his jacket. From here, he can see everyone stretched out around the fire. Smiling to himself, he observes his found family.  
Grog sleeps out under the stars without even a blanket, one hand draped loosely over his chest. His trusty axe is by his side gleaming like oil in the firelight. Beside him, Pike is a tiny blanket covered mound, golden hair just visible at one edge. Tiberius sleeps in a tent a little ways off, the cloth rippling silently in the gentle breeze. On the other side of the fire is Vax, hands tight around his dagger hilts even in rest, ready in a whisper to protect his family. Scanlan has tucked himself into a little nook between tree roots, closest to the fire. Keyleth has curled up in a patch of tall grass, auburn hair falling across her face.  
Percy watches them all sleep, a warmth growing in his chest. He still does not quite understand what drove them to adopt him, to accept him as one of them without any sort of concern. It’s strange to have a family again, even one made of misfits, but he finds he enjoys it. He enjoys the jokes around the fire at night, the teasing as they travel through the day, the assurance that in a fight they will all protect each other with blade and blood. For all their quirks and oddities, each one of them is as loyal as they come.  
“Percy, I’d like you to have a look at something,” Vex whispers through the enchanted earring, startling him from his reverie.  
“I’m on my way,” he murmurs back, pushing himself off the tree. He slips around the edge of camp, heading to the other side where Vex is keeping watch from. Vex. Warmth swells again at the thought of her. She is always firm with him but never unkind, a steady companion and a true friend. It is impossible for Percy to admit most days, but sometimes, just before sleep claims him, he thinks that in another lifetime, he might court her just to try to win one of her smiles. It is a thought he banishes in the daylight, for Vex never treats him any differently than her brother—it is a filial love, not a romantic one, and he will not let himself mope. He never expected to pick who he married anyways, and so pushing down any excess feeling is more habit than struggle.  
In the darkness ahead of him, he can hear the faint huff of Trinket’s breathing. As he approaches, he can see the Vex sitting on the bear, barely outlined in the watery moonlight. “What is it you wanted me to see?” he asks, keeping his voice low.  
“There’s an old camp not far from here,” she says. She slides off Trinket to walk beside him. He’s acutely aware of her presence mere inches from him, separated by only a scant breath of air. “There was a small device I can’t make heads nor tails of. I was hoping you could.”  
“I’ll do my best.”  
They walk in silence for several minutes through the night. The eastern edge of the sky has become a deep purple, hinting at the coming sunrise. Percy has always enjoyed last watch because it ends with such beauty. It reminds him of the good in the world, the purples and pinks and golds that lessen the harshness of things, even if only for a few minutes.  
“Here,” Vex says at last, breaking through a last cluster of trees to a small clearing. A dead campfire sits off to one side, burned logs resting haphazardly on one another. The grass is pressed down from at least three people sleeping, as far as Percy can tell, but he’ll be the first to admit he’s not the best at reading survival signs. Vex strolls over by the campfire and picks up a small silver orb. “This is what I spoke of.”  
Percy holds out a hand. “Let me see.” The orb is heavier than he would have expected, delicate circles of engraved metal looping around and over each other, unfolding almost like a rose. The middle is a mesh of gears and springs. After a few minutes of fiddling, Percy notices a small switch on the underside of the thickest circle. He prods it gently.  
With a silent flourish, the ball begins to move, multitudes of rings moving over and around each other. It seems almost random when it stops, until Percy notices the thick band has eight part circles carved into it that look like the phases of the moon. He looks up, notes the waxing half-moon in the sky, and manoeuvres the ball until the corresponding etching is facing up. He checks the sky again, confirming his suspicions. “It’s a map,” he says. He looks at Vex, pushing down the heat that threatens to creep into his cheeks as he realizes she’s smiling at him.  
“A map to what?” Vex says, tilting her head curiously.  
“I’m not sure. But we’re very close to whatever it is. Perhaps a few miles off, at the most.”  
“Perhaps we should look into that,” Vex muses.  
Percy shrugs. “It wouldn’t hurt. It’s a very complicated design, I’d love to know who built it.”  
“What—” Vex falls silent as a twig snaps somewhere nearby. She pulls her bow from her back, nocking an arrow to the string, falling to a half-crouch at the same moment.  
Percy pulls the Pepperbox from its holster, checking to make sure it’s loaded. He cocks the gun, waiting for a movement in the darkness.  
Two men burst from the trees, swords drawn, charging at Percy and Vex. Vex drops the first with an arrow to the eye, and Percy drops the second with a well placed shot.  
The shuffle from behind them is lost in the ringing report of the gun. Vex hears it before Percy, twisting around, hand on the string—  
Percy turns just in time to see her hand fall limp as the sword emerges from her back. “Oh,” she whispers, sliding off the blade. Cold, implacable hatred arises in Percy’s chest. He raises the Pepperbox and shoots the five remaining bullets as fast as he can pull the trigger. The man was dead by the third shot, but Percy doesn’t stop until the trigger clicks against empty barrels several times.  
He drops the gun and falls to his knees, gathering Vex up onto his lap. “Pike, Pike, we need Pike!” he shouts into the earring, not waiting for a reply. He puts one hand over the wound on Vex’s stomach and one against her back. “Not again,” he murmurs to himself.  
Vex’s eyelids flutter, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. She mumbles something indistinguishable. “No no, don’t talk,” Percy says, trying to keep the shake from his voice. “Come now, everything will be fine. You can talk later.” If there is a later he thinks, hands shaking, slippery against her skin. “Just fine,” he says, tears starting to build in his eyes.  
“Percival…” Vex mumbles again. With what seems like great effort, she places on of her hands onto his, cold against the warmth of the lifeblood seeping from her.  
“Shhh,” Percy whispers. “Stay awake, okay? Stay with me.”  
Vex makes no move.  
“Vex?!”  
Nothing.  
“No,” Percy whispers, the tears flowing in earnest now. “Not her too. Not her!” he shouts at whatever god thinks this is funny, to rip his family away from him a second time. “Not her,” he mumbles, half choking on tears. He presses his lips to the top of her head, kissing her hair, hands shaking as he gently rocks back and forth. A lullaby, long forgotten, comes to him, and he starts to sing it, voice cracking. The sky is well and truly on its way to sunrise now, the first streaks of colour in the sky. How dare it, he thinks. How dare it mock him this way, trying to be beautiful while Vex dies in his arms. How dare it try and be beautiful when the most beautiful part of the world is slipping away.  
There’s a clatter of breaking twigs and rushing bodies from behind Percy, but he can’t be bothered to look up. If these are more bandits, there’s nothing he can do to fight them.  
But then Vex is being lifted from his arms, and it’s not bandits, but it’s Pike, glorious Pike, pressing her little hands against Vex’s stomach and clutching her holy symbol. Grog and Vax are there, the other three not far behind.  
“What happened?” Vax asks, grabbing Percy by the shoulders. “What happened to my sister?”  
Percy can’t bring himself to speak, only points to the dead man lying a yard or two away. He watches Pike work with feverish intensity, trying to breathe past the lump in his throat.  
Vex suddenly opens her eyes, coughing. Before Percy can do anything, Vax has his sister in a tight embrace, murmuring at her.  
“Are you okay?” Grog asks Percy, who can only nod and smile, wiping the tears away.  
The party returns to camp, Vax helping Vex, just as the sky above them reaches the height of its riot of colours.  
It is, thinks Percy as he watches Vex, the most beautiful sunrise he’s ever seen.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this one!


End file.
